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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27860909">Serena's Coffeeshop</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage'>Persiflage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mashed Up Tropes Fics [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Holby City</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Airline Pilots, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Slow Bern, Slow Romance, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Tumblr Prompt, Unplanned Pregnancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:29:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,920</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27860909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Bernie's an ex-military pilot now flying for a civilian airline and Serena runs an indie coffeeshop in the airport. Bernie comes in once a week after a flight from Krakow to get coffee and a chocolate croissant and they pine like a fucking forest before finally getting together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur Digby/Morven Digby, Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mashed Up Tropes Fics [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Serena's Coffeeshop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctitatem/gifts">Sanctitatem</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for doctorjameswatson for the Mashed Up Tropes Meme on Tumblr, for the tropes: 10: Airport/Travel and 53: Mutual Pining.</p>
<p>This one totally escaped me, hence it's so damn long!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>Serena’s</i> coffeeshop isn’t too busy, which is probably just as well because when the pilot walks in, lean and blonde in a navy blue uniform, Serena is completely floored. The woman is slim and seems to have legs that go on forever. Serena can’t help licking her lips at the sight of this pilot, even as she notes the other woman’s interesting face: thin top lip, plumper bottom lip, hawkish nose, and deep brown eyes that Serena feels she might drown in if she’s not careful. </p>
<p>Still, she has a business to run and a customer to serve, so she takes a deep breath and steps up to the counter at the same time as the blonde.</p>
<p>“Hi, what can I get you?” </p>
<p>“A double expresso and a chocolate croissant, please.”</p>
<p>Serena doesn’t blink at the mention of the croissant, but she’ll admit to being surprised the pilot would eat such a thing, given how slender she is. Perhaps she works out.</p>
<p>“One double expresso and one chocolate croissant coming up,” she says, smiling. “Why don’t you grab a seat, and someone will bring it over.”</p>
<p>“I don’t have to wait in a queue?”</p>
<p>Serena chuckles. ”One person does not a queue make. Go ahead and grab a seat.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” The woman taps her card against the card payment machine, then turns around and surveys the coffeeshop. There’re  three other customers on the premises: a young couple in their twenties in the corner by the window, and a lone man of around thirty five seated beside the door. Serena watches as the pilot takes them in, then marches across the shop to a table in the far corner, where she sits facing the room. </p>
<p>As soon as Morven's made the pilot’s coffee and Serena’s placed the croissant onto a plate, atop a napkin, she takes the cup and the plate across to the pilot’s table.</p>
<p>“Here you go,” Serena says, smiling cheerfully. </p>
<p>“Thank you.” </p>
<p>“I haven’t seen you in here, before,” Serena comments. She can’t help herself – she’s deeply curious about this woman. She’s wearing a commercial pilot’s uniform, but her bearing is more military than civilian.</p>
<p>“Do you know all your customers by sight?” counters the woman.</p>
<p>Serena chuckles. “I know the majority of them by name. We’re the only indie coffeeshop at Holby City International Airport and we aren’t as busy as the chain coffeeshops. We’re certainly not frequented by pilots.”</p>
<p>“I don’t like crowds,” the pilot says. “Or chains. I always prefer to support independent and local businesses. They’re more likely to give back to the community.”</p>
<p>“An admirable ethic,” Serena comments. “Enjoy your breakfast.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” The blonde nods and Serena makes herself turn and walk away. It’s doubtful she’d appreciate a nosy coffeeshop owner badgering her during her breakfast. Especially if she’s just flown in overnight from somewhere. Serena can’t help being curious, though. The pilot’s military bearing and watchfulness have struck a sympathetic chord in Serena.</p>
<p>After the blonde leaves, her hat firmly back on her and her spine rigid, Serena goes to collect the woman’s cup and plate and discovers a five pound note tucked under the plate, with a torn scrap of paper atop it. The note on the scrap says, <i>For the server with thanks. BGW</i>, and Serena’s immediately curious about those initials. She wonders if the pilot will return.</p>
<p>SC-BW-SC-BW-SC</p>
<p>A week later, at precisely the same time, BGW, with her blonde hair up in a French twist as before, and her uniform jacket and skirt looking neatly pressed, despite however many hours of flying time she’s just spent in said uniform, strides up to the counter and asks, “Do you remember my order?”</p>
<p>Serena smirks and the blonde’s eyes widen. “Double expresso and a chocolate croissant.”</p>
<p>BGW nods, the hint of a smile curling the corners of her mouth. “Very good.”</p>
<p>“Your table’s free,” Serena adds and BGW blinks, then purses her lips so that the top one almost disappears from sight. </p>
<p>“Thank you.” She taps her card to take the contactless payment, then strides away. Serena can’t help watching her go, noting the well muscled calves, encased in stockings, and the pert bum that her uniform skirt cannot hide. </p>
<p>“You’re drooling,” Raf tells her with a light nudge of his elbow against Serena’s.</p>
<p>“Am not,”</p>
<p>Raf snorts. “No, you definitely are. If she’s come straight off the plane, she’s just flown in from Kraków.”</p>
<p>“How on Earth do you know that?” asks Serena, astonished.</p>
<p>“I recognise the uniform.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.” Serena takes the coffee he’s just made and the croissant on its plate across the coffeeshop and sets them down on the pilot’s table.</p>
<p>“Enjoy your breakfast, BGW.”</p>
<p>The blonde’s eyes light up and her smile transforms her face. “Thank you –” She pauses expectantly.</p>
<p>“Serena.”</p>
<p>“I’m honoured that the owner is waiting on me.”</p>
<p>“You needn’t be,” Serena says. “I like waiting on people. It gives me the chance to get to know them.”</p>
<p>“Take a seat,” suggests the pilot, “and tell me what you want to know.”</p>
<p>Serena grins. “Tell me everything. Starting with your name, please.”</p>
<p>The woman snorts. “I don’t have time to tell you everything, but I’m happy to give you my name, though you might regret it: Berenice Griselda Wolfe.”</p>
<p>“Two unusual, strong names,” Serena notes.</p>
<p>“Three unusual names, in fact,” Berenice tells her. “The Wolfe is spelt with an E on the end.”</p>
<p>“I like your names, Berenice Griselda Wolfe. They suit you.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Mmhmm. You’re definitely a bit of a lone wolf to chose to breakfast in an obscure indie coffeeshop. Berenice means ‘bearer of victory’, if I remember correctly, and doesn’t Griselda mean ‘fearsome warrior’?” She gets a surprised look, then a nod, and she feels emboldened to continue. “You work as a commercial airline pilot, but you’ve got a military bearing.”</p>
<p>“Very insightful.”</p>
<p>Berenice looks as if she’s sorry to have encouraged her, so Serena gets to her feet. “As much as I’d love to sit here all day talking to you, Berenice, I do have to get back to work – the morning rush will be starting soon. I hope we can talk further at a later date.”</p>
<p>After a moment Berenice nods. “I think I’d like that.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Serena turns and walks back to the counter, sure that she can feel Berenice’s eyes on her the whole way.</p>
<p>When Berenice has gone and Serena goes to collect her empty cup and plate there’s a small envelope with her name on it and a five pound note inside. Serena finds herself impressed and intrigued – her tip is practically equal to the cost of the coffee and croissant. Berenice must <i>really</i> like the service.</p>
<p>SC-BW-SC-BW-SC</p>
<p>The next three weeks are the same: every Thursday morning at around four thirty Berenice Wolfe makes an appearance, pays for her breakfast, then waits for Serena to arrive with her coffee and croissant, and allows Serena to tease more titbits of information out of her. She explains that she’d flown for the military for twenty two years before an accident had left her temporarily paralysed and then she hadn’t flown for two years. </p>
<p>“I’ve only been back flying again for nine months,” Berenice tells her on the fifth morning. “They made me do a whole barrage of written and oral exams, and physical and psychological tests, before letting me back up in the air.”</p>
<p>“How were you injured?” asks Serena, after wincing at the account Berenice has given her.</p>
<p>“Road accident. A lorry driver who, it turned out, hated motorcyclists and, they later discovered, had caused more than one accident before. But this was the worst one, so they finally nailed the bastard. He broke my spine and both legs. At one stage they really doubted I’d ever be able to walk again. I didn’t blame them for their doubts. After all, they hadn’t long met me.”</p>
<p>Serena chuckles. “Why do I get the impression that you have a stubborn streak a mile wide?”</p>
<p>Berenice’s gaze snaps to her face. “Determination, not stubbornness,” she says quietly, but firmly. “If I hadn’t been determined, I wouldn’t have succeeded in my chosen career as well as I did. The British Armed forces may permit women to serve but they still don’t really like women in positions of authority. Do you know how many women Squadron Leaders there are?” Serena shakes her head. “Six. There were seven throughout the whole of the RAF, but then I was forced to retire on medical grounds.”</p>
<p>Serena reaches out and touches the back of Berenice’s hand, which has clenched into a fist beside her plate. “I’m sorry,” she says gently. “It was thoughtless of me to tease you.”</p>
<p>To her surprise Berenice’s fingers uncurl, then she turns her hand over and holds it out. “Captain Berenice Griselda Wolfe. Whose father said she had a stubborn streak a mile wide when his one and only daughter announced her intention of one day becoming a senior officer in the RAF.”</p>
<p>Serena laughs softly, then clasps Berenice’s hand, relishing in its warmth and strength. “Serena Wendy Campbell,” she says. “And like you, this isn’t my first career.”</p>
<p>Before she can elaborate, Morven calls for her, holding up the telephone handset. Serena gives Berenice’s hand a squeeze, then says apologetically, “Duty calls.”</p>
<p>“I’ll see you next week Serena Wendy Campbell.”</p>
<p>Serena smiles, for once untroubled by her middle name. “I’ll be here,” she promises.</p>
<p>SC-BW-SC-BW-SC</p>
<p>The following week Serena tells Bernie, as Berenice has asked to be called, of her own former career as a vascular surgeon, clinical lead on AAU, and deputy CEO of Holby City General Hospital. </p>
<p>“I was forty five and hoping to finally bag the CEO’s job and then my daughter, Elinor, was involved in an RTC. It turned out she was a drug user – well, a drug addict, let’s not mince words. She was lucky that neither she nor my nephew, Jason, died, though it was very touch and go with Elinor for a long time. She needed a lot of physical rehab from the accident, as well as help to get her through being forced to go cold turkey and then get herself off the drugs. I quit my job to look after both Elinor and Jason – he lives with me as he’s an orphan. Once they were both fit and well, I decided not to go back.”</p>
<p>“So why a coffeeshop?” asks Bernie, her dark eyes full of curiosity.</p>
<p>“Why not?” Serena asks with a soft laugh.</p>
<p>“Why not indeed,” agrees Bernie. “I’m sorry that you had to go through such tough times, but I am grateful you’re here. Your coffee and croissants are enough to get me safely home again after the overnight flight from Kraków.”</p>
<p>“Can I ask you something?” Serena asks and Bernie nods. But before she can ask there’s a crash from behind the counter, and Serena’s hurrying across the coffeeshop before she even realises she’s moved. She finds Morven lying on the floor, a number of cups and saucers and plates in pieces around her. Morven is out cold, and Serena can clearly see that she hit her head as she fell. </p>
<p>“Call an ambulance,” Serena snaps at Arthur, Morven’s boyfriend.</p>
<p>“I – uh – yes – of – of course.” He starts fumbling in his pockets for his phone.</p>
<p>“There’s one on its way already,” says a familiar voice from a few feet away, and when Serena looks up from the formerly pristine tea towel that’s now becoming heavily bloodstained, she sees Bernie standing with her mobile phone in her hand. “The crash sounded pretty serious,” she says with a shrug. “Not an ‘Oops, I dropped a couple of mugs’, but an ‘Oh freak, I crashed to the floor with a tray full of crockery’.”</p>
<p>“‘Oh freak’?” Serena repeats helplessly.</p>
<p>“An officer does not swear in front of a lady.”</p>
<p>Serena feels a laugh bubbling up inside her, but she bites her bottom lip to keep it in, suspecting it will sound hysterical if it escapes. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome.”</p>
<p>Serena looks over at Arthur. “Call Raf and Fletch and ask them to come in immediately to cover for us.”</p>
<p>“Why ‘us’?” asks Arthur.</p>
<p>“Well, are you going to be any use here while fretting about Morven?”</p>
<p>He blushes. “No.”</p>
<p>“Exactly. So I’ll drive you to the hospital once Raf and Fletch get in as I doubt you’ll be allowed to travel in the ambulance with Morven.”</p>
<p>Bernie clears her throat. “Would you like me to drive Arthur in?” she asks. “We can follow the ambulance in. And I can come back and get you once your staff arrive, then drive you there.”</p>
<p>“You’re a pilot, not a taxi service.”</p>
<p>Bernie shrugs. “Wouldn’t you feel happier to know Arthur’s gone with Morven? One less person fretting.” She steps back a pace. “Obviously, it’s none of my business, but –” </p>
<p>“Yes. Please. If you really don’t mind?”</p>
<p>“Of course not. I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Bernie says, her voice gone gruff.</p>
<p>“Then thank you.”</p>
<p>Arthur nods. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Bernie nods back. “Here come the paramedics. Arthur, I’ll wait for you by the door.”</p>
<p>He nods again, then looks past Bernie as two brisk women in their thirties come around the corner of the counter, and Serena sighs a little in relief, grateful for Bernie’s stalwart support.</p>
<p>~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~</p>
<p>By the time Bernie returns from dropping off Arthur at Holby City General, only Raf has arrived at work and the coffeeshop’s far too busy for Serena to leave him on his own. She makes Bernie another cup of coffee, waving away her intention to pay. </p>
<p>“You’ve done and are doing me a huge favour and I know that I’m keeping you from going home to sleep, so a free coffee is the least I can do. Do you want anything to eat with it while you’re waiting?”</p>
<p>“Um, well, I’ll admit your bacon butties smell delicious.”</p>
<p>For some reason Bernie seems embarrassed by this admission, but Serena takes it in her stride. “Since your usual table is full, why don’t you go and sit in the kitchen, and I’ll make you a fresh butty in a few minutes?” she suggests. </p>
<p>“If you’re sure I won’t be in the way?”</p>
<p>“Positive.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” Bernie moves into the kitchen area and Serena serves a handful more customers who want their coffee and pastry to take away, then she moves into the kitchen to join Bernie. </p>
<p>“Brown, white, or wholemeal bread for your butty?” asks Serena, crossing to the fridge to take out the bacon and some butter for the bread roll, then turning on the grill.</p>
<p>“Brown, please.”</p>
<p>“Coming right up,” Serena says with a smile. She notes that Bernie has removed her uniform jacket, leaving her in a beautifully tailored white shirt, the sleeves of which she’s rolled up. She’s also loosened her tie and unfastened the top button of her shirt, and Serena can’t help feeling a strong pulse of desire at the sight of the pilot looking so casual.</p>
<p>Within a few minutes she sets Bernie’s bacon butty on a plate, then carries the plate over to Bernie.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you eating?” Bernie asks, accepting the napkin that Serena offers her and tucking it into her shirt collar. “Or have you eaten already?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, I don’t eat anything except a little fruit before 10am.”</p>
<p>Bernie frowns. “Aren’t you hungry?”</p>
<p>Serena shakes her head. “No. I will be by the time 10am arrives, but not right now.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” </p>
<p>Bernie’s just finished eating when Fletch pops his head around the kitchen door. “Hiya boss. Sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner. Missus is sick and I had to find some childcare for Theo.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine, Fletch. It is one of your designated days off, after all.”</p>
<p>“Is Morven okay?”</p>
<p>Bernie nods. “The paramedics seemed to think so. Obviously, they were quite concerned about her hitting her head. Arthur told me she’d complained of feeling lightheaded a little while before she blacked out.”</p>
<p>“I’ll keep me fingers crossed, then,” Fletch says. </p>
<p>Serena unfastens the apron around her middle, then lifts the looped neck strap off as well and hangs it on a hook at the far side of the kitchen. “Okay, Fletch, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, boss. Take as long as you need. I’m good to stay with Raf until the kids need collecting.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” </p>
<p>Serena notices that Bernie is already on her feet and has carried her empty plate and mug over to the counter next to the sink. </p>
<p>The pilot gives Fletch a nod, then asks softly, “Ready?”</p>
<p>“Yes. And thank you, again, for running me to the hospital.”</p>
<p>“That’s alright.”</p>
<p>Serena follows Bernie out of the kitchen, then through the back door to take the shortcut to the car park. She can’t help being a little startled when she sees Bernie’s car.</p>
<p>“That’s your car?” she asks doubtfully as Bernie unlocks it, then opens the passenger door for her. </p>
<p>“You have a problem with sports cars?” Bernie asks, waiting for Serena to settle herself in the passenger seat, then closing the door once she’s in. She circles the front of the car, then climbs into the driver’s seat.</p>
<p>“It’s not exactly spacious, is it?” Serena asks, trying not to dwell on the flash of knee she’s just witnessed as Bernie swung her legs into the car and tucked her skirt neatly beneath her.</p>
<p>“Given this is the first time since I bought it that I’ve had anyone else in it, I’m not sure how much more spacious you think I need it to be. The boot’s big enough – 130 litre capacity – which is big enough to carry a month’s worth of groceries, and more than big enough to carry my bags for my overseas trips.”</p>
<p>Serena watches as Bernie starts the car, then pulls out of the parking space and whisks them around the car park and out onto the main road heading into the city. She notes the pilot’s long, elegant fingers and recalls how strong Bernie’s hand had felt in her own when they once shook hands. They’re very capable hands, she thinks, just as Captain Bernie Wolfe is a very capable woman. Serena feels a little flushed at the thoughts that are pushing their way into her mind right now, and nearly jumps out of her seat when Bernie clears her throat and says, “You were going to ask me something earlier, just before Morven collapsed.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes. You might consider it rather intrusive, but I just wondered how it is we only see you at <i>Serena’s</i> one morning a week? Do you only fly part time?”</p>
<p>“For Holby Air, yes. I fly out to Kraków on a Monday morning. Then I take a private flight to Nairobi, during which I sleep, arriving there mid-afternoon. I then spend a few hours at the airport, at the base of the African air ambulance organisation. I fly for them on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, getting a flight back to Kraków late on Wednesday afternoons. I get a few hours sleep, then I fly the Holby Air flight back to England early on Thursday morning. I usually sleep for most of Thursday. Fridays are spent visiting my psychiatrist in the morning, then the physiotherapist in the afternoon. I have to work hard to maintain my physical fitness to fly. My mental fitness, too, to tell the truth.” </p>
<p>Bernie glances sideways at Serena. “I suffer from PTSD as a result of both my service with the RAF and the crash that almost crippled me.”</p>
<p>“I’m not surprised,” Serena says softly. “What do you do with your weekends?”</p>
<p>“I head up to London on a Saturday and have lunch at the RAF Club. It’s an opportunity to stay in touch with my friends, my former colleagues. Before lunch I always spend a couple of hours at the Central YMCA – they’ve got a twenty five metre swimming pool that I like to use.”</p>
<p>“And Sundays?”</p>
<p>“Well, I tend not to get home until around 11pm on a Saturday night, so I have a lie in on Sunday mornings, then spend some time either baking or gardening, or both, depending on the weather, what needs doing in the garden, and how much my body hates me on any given weekend.”</p>
<p>“A lie in? I’m impressed. I had no idea you understood the concept.”</p>
<p>Bernie snorts. “Coming from a woman who owns the coffeeshop yet is still on duty at 4.30am that’s a bit pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>Serena chuckles. “Mmm, but I’m not there every day. I take the weekends off and Wednesdays, too, unless I need to cover a staffing issue.”</p>
<p>She lifts a hand to her pendant and begins worrying it to and fro. She’s vaguely aware that Bernie’s pulled up at a red traffic light, but only finds herself paying proper attention again when Bernie’s hand briefly squeezes her knee.</p>
<p>“I didn’t get the impression that Morven was seriously ill,” the blonde says quietly.</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>Bernie squeezes her knee again. “I’m certain it’s nothing serious,” she says, not seeming to mind that she’s repeating herself.</p>
<p>Serena heaves in a big breath, then lets it out slowly and steadily. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome.”</p>
<p>~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~</p>
<p>It turns out that Morven’s ‘illness’ is actually morning sickness – that she’s fallen pregnant without realising it. She’s simultaneously delighted and terrified as she and Arthur haven’t discussed having children, and they have only recently moved in together. Serena gives the pair of them a couple of days off to get used to the idea and to have some important and necessary conversations, both together and with their parents.</p>
<p>Serena conveys the news to Bernie via a text, the pair having swapped numbers before the pilot left Serena at the hospital to go and get some much needed sleep. Bernie texts back asking Serena to pass on her congratulations and on the following Thursday she walks into Serena’s carrying a brown paper bag which she passes to Arthur. She then pays for her breakfast and walks off to her usual table.</p>
<p>Arthur calls Morven over since both their names are written on the paper bag and he delves inside to find a half bottle of champagne with a gift tag that reads: <i>To wet the baby’s head</i>; a small plant in a pot that the label states is a carnelian bonsai tree, with a note that reads: <i>Flower bouquets don’t last, pot plants do</i>; and last, but not least, a stuffed fox toy suitable for three months and up.</p>
<p>“Oh my goodness,” Morven says. “I have to thank her.” She starts towards the end of the counter, but Serena catches her arm lightly as she passes.</p>
<p>“Gently, now,” she says. “Don’t forget Captain Wolfe is ex-military – she might not be comfortable with a public display of gratitude.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, of course.” </p>
<p>Morven’s face falls and Serena gently squeezes her elbow. “Why don’t you both go and thank her?”</p>
<p>Arthur gives her a brilliant smile, then takes Morven’s hand and the pair walk over to where Bernie’s finishing up her chocolate croissant. Serena can’t help watching, noting the shy smile that the blonde gives the young couple, the way she stands and shakes hands with Arthur, then gives Morven a brief yet fervent hug.</p>
<p>She will admit to no one that she is filled with jealousy that Morven gets to hug Captain Berenice Wolfe.</p>
<p>SC-BW-SC-BW-SC</p>
<p>It’s a Sunday some six weeks after Morven discovers she’s pregnant when Serena’s phone rings about 11.30am. She’s surprised to see the caller’s name come up as Bernie, and she grabs the phone from the coffee table where it’s sitting next to a half empty coffee pot and the rest of the Sunday papers.</p>
<p>“Bernie! This is a surprise. What can I do for you?”</p>
<p>“I’m baking this morning. Have you ever made Baklava?”</p>
<p>“No, that’s not something I’ve tried. Are you having problems?”</p>
<p>“Struggling to get the filo dough thin enough.” She sighs. “Maybe I’ve over-reached myself this time. Perhaps I’ll just go and land a helicopter in a hurricane instead.”</p>
<p>Serena can’t help laughing at the wry, self-deprecating tone in the other woman’s voice. “Sorry,” she says as soon as she’s caught her breath. “I’m not laughing at you, honestly.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine. I’m prepared to be laughed at when I’m being ridiculous.” She sighs. “What’s the hardest pastry you’ve ever made?”</p>
<p>“Napoleons. Arthur loves them, though.” She snorts. “He’s got a real obsession with Bonaparte, that extends to a love of Napoleons.”</p>
<p>“I had no idea. How odd.”</p>
<p>“Odd?”</p>
<p>“Well, it’s a bit like being obsessed with Hitler or Jack the Ripper, isn’t it? Bonaparte might not have committed actual genocide, but he was hardly a shining example of humanity.”</p>
<p>“It’s his military skills and leadership that Arthur admires, I think.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.” Serena hears her huff a breath. “Right, well, I shall see what I can achieve with this filo dough because this Baklava won’t make itself.”</p>
<p>“Dare I ask why you’re trying to make it if you’re finding it such hard going?”</p>
<p>“Oh, Robyn, one of my fellow pilots for the African air ambulance absolutely adores it and it’s her birthday in a couple of weeks. I figured I should make a test batch first and see how I get on. And if they’re a total disaster, I’ll try something simpler to take to her instead.”</p>
<p>“You’re a very generous woman, Bernie.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know about that. It’s just – well – I like baking and I find it therapeutic, when it’s not driving me up the wall, that is. And I can’t eat everything I make, so I tend to share it around at work. Well, both workplaces.”</p>
<p>“You know, I wouldn’t mind trying some of your baking some time,” Serena says, using a coaxing tone that she knows is incredibly effective.</p>
<p>Bernie scoffs. “<i>You</i> want to try <i>my</i> baking? Why? You’re a brilliant baker in your own right. You bake <i>professionally</i>.”</p>
<p>“I’d still like to try some, though,” Serena says.</p>
<p>“Fine, fine. I’ll drop some off at the coffeeshop on my way through tomorrow morning. Just don’t blame me if it’s not up to your standards. Or any good at all.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Serena says with emphatic joy.</p>
<p>Bernie snorts. “Don’t thank me until you’ve tasted it, Campbell.”</p>
<p>Serena chuckles. “I look forward to it.”</p>
<p>“Right, well, I’ll leave you to your coffee and crosswords, and I’ll get back to landing that helicopter in a hurricane.”</p>
<p>“Good luck.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>SC-BW-SC-BW-SC</p>
<p>Serena misses Bernie’s visit to drop off her baking efforts as she’s on the phone to one of her suppliers, chasing up some missing supplies. She only knows Bernie’s passed through when Morven comes into the little office space that adjoins the kitchen carrying an opaque plastic box with a blue lid. She sets it on the far side of Serena’s desk, then sinks into the visitor’s chair to wait for Serena to finish her call.</p>
<p>“What’s this?” Serena asks as soon as she’s finished her phone call.</p>
<p>“It’s from Captain Wolfe. She said you were expecting it.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” exclaims Serena. “I didn’t think she’d actually follow through.”</p>
<p>“What is it?” Morven asks curiously.</p>
<p>“Baklava. Bernie was making some as a test run for a colleague’s birthday in a couple of weeks time – I persuaded her to bring in some for us to try out.”</p>
<p>She lifts the lid off the plastic box and is slightly surprised to see a folded piece of paper with her name on it sitting on top of some sheets of greaseproof paper. She unfolds the piece of paper to discover a note from Bernie:</p>
<p>
  <i>Serena,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Here’s the baklava. Strictly speaking it should be referred to as Armenian paklava as it’s made to an Armenian recipe. It’s made with cinnamon and cloves. I take no responsibility for any food poisoning that may ensue. You have been warned.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Bernie.</i>
</p>
<p>Serena laughs, passes the note to Morven, then lifts the layers of greaseproof paper to reveal the box has also been lined with greaseproof paper; there are half a dozen diamond shaped slices of paklava resting on the paper, each of which has a cocktail stick ‘flag’ in it with their names on: Morven, Arthur, Raf, Fletch, and Serena twice.</p>
<p>“Why do you get two?” asks Morven, sounding curious rather than put out.</p>
<p>“Perhaps because I talked her into sharing.” She nods at the kitchen. “Why don’t you grab some forks, plates and napkins, and we’ll try it.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>Morven goes to fetch the forks, napkins and plates, and Serena carefully frees two slices of paklava from the half dozen in the box, then she sets them on the plates when Morven returns.</p>
<p>“It smells delicious, at least,” Morven observes as she spreads her napkin on her lap and brings the plate up to her nose, inhaling delicately.</p>
<p>“It does,” Serena agrees. She breaks off a corner and brings the fork up to her mouth. It tastes delicious, too, she discovers as it practically melts in her mouth.</p>
<p>“Oh wow!″ Morven says. “This is incredible!”</p>
<p>Serena nods around another melting mouthful. She considers herself exceptionally fortunate that Bernie included two slices for her as one is definitely not going to be enough.</p>
<p>Once she’s finished the first slice she tells Morven to put Arthur’s slices on a plate in the kitchen so that he can have it shortly. The box with Serena’s second slices and the two for Raf and Fletch goes into the pantry as the two men won’t be in until tomorrow. Serena gets herself a mug of coffee and returns to her office to do the paperwork, but sends a quick text to Bernie first:</p>
<p>
  <i>That’s a 👍 from me and another 👍 from Morven for the paklava. Arthur will try his shortly. Melt-in-the-mouth deliciousness. Thank you. S x</i>
</p>
<p>She knows better than to expect a response soon as Bernie will be prepping for the flight to Kraków, but at least the message is there for when she has a minute to check her phone.</p>
<p>SC-BW-SC-BW-SC</p>
<p>After that it becomes a ‘thing’: Captain Bernie Wolfe stops off at <i>Serena’s</i> on a Monday morning on her way to her flight to Kraków and brings them a sample of whatever she’s baked the previous day. One Monday, while dropping off this week’s baking sample (and collecting a coffee and pastry to go), she comments on the irony of bringing baked goods to a coffeeshop, but Serena assures her that they all appreciate the chance to try the things Bernie makes and that if she ever finds herself permanently grounded as a pilot, she would be happy to take her on as a baker for <i>Serena’s</i>, an offer that makes Bernie’s eyes look wet for a moment before she reins in her emotions, collects her travel mug of coffee and her pastry, and disappears with a nod to Serena.</p>
<p>The weather gets colder and Serena has to fight not to drool when Bernie appears one Monday morning carrying her usual box of baked offerings and wearing a knee length double-breasted navy wool coat. She spots the insignia on the buttons and realises this must be Bernie’s coat from her RAF days. Tucked within the open neck of the coat is a bright red wool scarf.</p>
<p>“That scarf is a nice touch,” Serena observes.</p>
<p>“Thank you. I knitted it myself.”</p>
<p>“A woman of many talents, it appears.” Serena hopes she hides her surprise at Bernie’s admission. She doesn’t want to appear critical.</p>
<p>“Well, I was taught to knit by one of the nurses when I was stuck in the hospital. I was bored because I couldn’t read thanks the drugs I was taking making me fuzzy-headed, so Kamala taught me to knit.”</p>
<p>“Pretty, was she?” Serena asks, feeling an irrational flare of jealousy.</p>
<p>Bernie’s expression goes cold and her spine straightens. “What does that matter?” she asks. </p>
<p>“Um – well – I – I suppose it doesn’t,” Serena stutters out, suddenly frightened by the other’s woman’s icy demeanour.</p>
<p>Morven passes over Bernie’s usual coffee and pastry to go, and she takes it with a nod at the younger woman.</p>
<p>“Good day to you both.” She strides away without a backward look or a wave.</p>
<p>“Is everything okay?” Morven asks, sounding concerned.</p>
<p>“Yes, fine, thank you.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Morven sounds doubtful and Serena can’t really blame her. She knows that she’s upset Bernie with her very stupid question. She takes the box of baked goods into the kitchen with a sense of unreality. </p>
<p><i>How could you be so stupid?</i> she asks herself, furious about that flare of jealousy and for the belated realisation that she’s very attracted to Captain Berenice Wolfe and has been since the first time she saw the blonde.</p>
<p>“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she mutters as she leaves the box on the kitchen table and moves into the office space. She slumps into her chair and wonders how on Earth she hadn’t realised sooner that she fancies Bernie – the signs seem pretty obvious now that she looks at her behaviour of the last few months: the little thrill she gets whenever Bernie texts or calls her; the even bigger thrill she feels on Monday and Thursday mornings, knowing that she’ll be seeing Bernie; the way she longs to touch Bernie and the jolt of electricity she feels whenever their fingers brush against each other as boxes of baked goods, cups of coffee and pastries are handed over. She really is the world’s biggest idiot, she decides, to have been pining like a whole damn forest all this time and not even realised.</p>
<p>She wonders how she’s going to rectify the situation. A mere text or phone call apologising would be a cop out. </p>
<p>Serena sighs as she realises that she’s not going to look forward to Thursday morning as she usually does.</p>
<p>SC-BW-SC-BW-SC</p>
<p>Thursday morning comes but does not bring Captain Wolfe. Serena wonders if she’s so upset the other woman that she can no longer bring herself to patronise <i>Serena’s</i>. She waits until she finishes work for the day, then she sends Bernie a text to remind her that she has her plastic box from Monday, but she gets no response. She feels simultaneously alarmed and annoyed at the radio silence, but there’s nothing she can do about it, not really: she has no idea where Bernie lives so cannot go around armed with the box filled with pastries of her own and carrying a travel mug of coffee.</p>
<p>A second week passes with no sign of the familiar blonde in her navy blue uniform. The others all take it upon themselves not to mention Captain Wolfe in Serena’s presence after she takes them all to task for their extremely irritating speculations about the pilot’s absence.</p>
<p>A third week still brings no sign of Captain Wolfe, who now has six voicemails and a dozen angry texts demanding to know where she is and insisting she come and pick up her damned cake box.</p>
<p>It’s not until 10am on the fourth Thursday that Bernie Wolfe reappears at <i>Serena’s</i>. She’s walking stiffly, her usual fluid grace gone, and with the aid of a walking stick. There’s a young Black woman at her side who almost looks as if she’s just there to catch Captain Wolfe if she falls.</p>
<p>Serena’s just finishing up serving a customer when she spots Bernie’s approach and for a moment all she can do is stand and stare, then she hurries around the end of the counter and asks anxiously, “What happened?”</p>
<p>“Bit of a contretemps in Kenya,” Bernie says her expression rueful and her voice gruff. “Mind if I sit down?”</p>
<p>“Of course not,” Serena says instantly. “Come through into the kitchen.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.” She turns to the Black woman. “You can safely leave me here, Donna, I promise.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure? Because I don’t mind waiting around for you.”</p>
<p>“Quite sure. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Okay. Just give me a call if you need anything though, yeah?”</p>
<p>Bernie nods. “I promise.”</p>
<p>“Okay then.” She squeezes Bernie’s arm, nods at Serena, then strides off. </p>
<p>Serena offers the blonde her arm and is relieved when Bernie slides her hand into the crook and leans as much on her as on the walking stick as they go around the counter and into the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Do you want anything to eat? A coffee?”</p>
<p>“I would love one of your bacon butties and a mug of tea, if that’s possible?” </p>
<p>Bernie’s gruff tone is still there, but she doesn’t seem cold or hostile, which is a huge relief to Serena. She doesn’t know, however, how she’s going to address the whole issue of the way she behaved when she learned that Bernie had been taught to knit by a nurse.</p>
<p>“I’m very sorry that I’ve been incommunicado and went AWOL. Neither was intentional.”</p>
<p>“You’re apologising to me?” Serena asks as she switches on the kettle, then switches on the grill. “I’m the one who –”</p>
<p>“Serena.” Bernie’s soft, pained voice stops her in her tracks, and she spins around to see the blonde is looking at her with the saddest expression, her brown eyes looking so soft and deep enough to drown in. “It’s fine. I overreacted and stormed off when I shouldn’t have done.”</p>
<p>She heaves a sigh, then rubs her right hand over her face and Serena belatedly notices how utterly exhausted Bernie looks. Before she can ask just what happened to the other woman the kettle pops and she turns away to make a pot of tea, leaving it on the table, along with two mugs, a jug of milk and the pot of sweetener.</p>
<p>“Do you reckon you could eat more than one bacon butty?” she asks gently.</p>
<p>“Actually, I probably could,” Bernie agrees. </p>
<p>Serena nods and gets out two plates, then sets the slices of bacon to grill while she butters the brown rolls they both prefer. </p>
<p>A few minutes later their plates are in front of them and the tea’s been poured into their mugs. Serena dares to gently squeeze Bernie’s left shoulder as she sets her plate in front of her and, to her surprise, Bernie’s right hand comes up to cover her hand, squeezes it briefly, then drops to the table.</p>
<p>“Thank you for this.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome.” Serena gives her a soft smile as she sits down and sees Bernie blink, then frown a little, before a soft smile lights her features for a few moments. Then she turns her attention to one of the bacon butties on her plate and they eat in silence for a few minutes.</p>
<p>“Do you want anything else to eat?” Serena asks when they’ve both finished their butties. She can’t help feeling relieved that their silence had felt companionable rather than fraught. </p>
<p>“Not right now, thank you.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>Bernie drinks some tea, rubs her hand over her face again, then says, “I’ve been in Kenya ever since we last saw each other. I got there as usual on the Monday afternoon to be greeted by worry and confusion. One of the air ambulance pilot doctors was missing – no one had seen Nicki since the day before. I was asked to search for her alongside a couple of the other doctors, who were not pilots. I agreed immediately and flew the three of us out to where she’d been expected to arrive. I’m not sure if I said, but all the air ambulance pilots also do flying doctor visits to the more remote villages and settlements.”</p>
<p>Serena nods, but doesn’t speak – she doesn’t want to interrupt Bernie’s narrative, particularly as she sounds so weary now.</p>
<p>“Anyway, fourth stop on the route that Nicki usually took, we found her plane.” Bernie swallows. “It had been shot down and was a wreck – which was really bad news for the air ambulance team, given how short of resources, both financial and material, they always are. Anyway, I landed my plane and the three of us ran over to Nicki’s plane. It was quite clear the fuel tank had been hit so we were fairly sure of what had brought the plane down. But Nicki wasn’t in the plane. Which was a relief, let me tell you.”</p>
<p>She swallows the rest of her tea and Serena gestures at the pot, and getting a nod, pours her a second mug.</p>
<p>“We found blood stains around the pilot’s seat and on the bodywork and reckoned Nicki had been injured, but had managed to climb out of the plane. But we had no idea in which direction she’d gone: both of the nearest villages, one to the north and one to the sound of the crash site, were several miles away – too far, we thought, for Nicki to have walked. So we agreed to split up: Subira and Nuru would head towards the village to the south and I would head north. We exchanged mobile numbers so we could let each other know if we found Nicki or any sign of where she’d gone, and then we set out.”</p>
<p>She sighs. “Bloody idiots, the three of us. We should have radioed in our position to the air ambulance base, but we didn’t.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, we set off, the three of us, and I’d walked about two and a half, maybe three miles, when a young girl of about nine or ten appeared, practically out of thin air, and seeing that I was wearing the air ambulance’s flight suit, asked me to come and help her older sister who had fallen down and broken her arm. I explained that I wasn’t a doctor, only a pilot, but I had arrived with two doctors and I could get them to come and help her sister. I pulled my mobile out of my pocket and someone shot it out of my hand. Grazed my hand, too,” she adds ruefully.</p>
<p>She drinks some of her tea. “After that everything got a bit chaotic. Someone shot at me a second time, missing me completely, thank goodness. Then I was knocked out by what I later learned was a rock thrown at my head.”</p>
<p>“Good grief!” Serena can’t help herself. “You could have been killed.”</p>
<p>Bernie gives her a tight smile. “I know. When I woke up I was in a dark shack, tied at the wrists and ankles to wooden posts. I felt like a pig trussed up for the spit. Eventually someone came in and my head was examined, then my hair shaved, and the wound was cleaned out with alcohol. Then I was untied from the posts and my ankles untied too, before I was led from my dark shack to another, much larger and brighter shack, where I was interrogated in broken English for the next several hours. It wasn’t until I blacked out that it occurred to anyone to feed me and give me something to drink.”</p>
<p>She chuckles mirthlessly. “The tea was weak and insipid, and the food was stale, but I ate and drank anyway because I needed to keep my strength up as best I could. After another couple of hours interrogation my captors took me back to my shack where I did my best to get some sleep. This went on for several days. Not that I was able to keep track of the time properly. Eventually, though, the leader of the group decided I knew nothing useful and I should be allowed to go. Of course, I didn’t entirely trust his benevolence, and sure enough, I’d only gone a few hundred yards when I was shot at again. This time they got my left leg.”</p>
<p>Bernie leans both elbows on the table, then buries her face in her hands and Serena sees the raw scar on the back of her right hand. She can’t help reaching out to lightly brush her fingertips over it and Bernie lifts her head and stares at her, her dark eyes seeming fathomless.</p>
<p>“Serena.” </p>
<p>Her name is a whisper that sends a shiver straight down her spine. “Berenice.”</p>
<p>“I thought I was going to die out there,” Bernie says in a low voice. “And all I could think was how mad at me you’d be for not coming back. You –” She closes her eyes, swallows audibly, licks her lips, then opens her eyes again. “It was the thought of you that kept me going.”</p>
<p>Serena almost knocks her chair over in her haste to get to Bernie. She kneels at the blonde’s feet. “It would have gutted me,” she whispers, taking Bernie’s hands in her own and pressing her lips to the scar on her right hand. “I’m so glad you came back, my darling.”</p>
<p>She stretches up and Bernie bends forward for the gentlest, tenderest kiss that Serena’s ever experienced.</p>
<p>“Serena, can you – oh!” Morven’s entrance into the kitchen, complete with a surprised squeak when she sees the two women kissing, serves to break them apart, and Serena gets to her feet with a suppressed groan for her poor knees.</p>
<p>“Can I what?” she asks Morven, who’s standing in the doorway with her hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes bright and wide.</p>
<p>“I – um – I wondered if I could leave early. My feet and legs are feeling a bit swollen.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” she says. “Call Raf and ask him to come and cover for you, then call Fletch and ask him to cover for me. I’m going to drive Bernie home.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” Morven gives them a big beaming smile, then rushes back out.</p>
<p>“Serena, you don’t –”</p>
<p>“I know I don’t have to, but I’m going to. Unless you’d rather come back to my place? I’d like to look after you.”</p>
<p>“Alright, but can we please stop at my place first to collect some clothes?”</p>
<p>“Of course, love.”</p>
<p>Bernie gives her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome.”</p>
<p>To Serena’s relief, Raf and Fletch arrive in a timely fashion, so Serena gives Morven a lift home as well as driving to Bernie’s for some clothes and things. After Serena drops off Morven, whose home is first on their route, Bernie finishes her story, explaining that Subira and Nuru tracked her down, and they saved her leg with field surgery, then managed to get her back to their plane from where they radioed HQ for assistance. Bernie was then flown to a hospital in Nairobi with a brand new state of the art trauma centre where she had further surgery on her leg, then spent the next three weeks recovering.</p>
<p>“Nuru managed to find my phone, too, and retrieved the SIM card for me, so I’ll be able to get a new handset and hang onto all my contacts and downloads. I’ve resigned from the African air ambulance service. And from Holby Air. I found that I’ve lost my taste for flying.”</p>
<p>“Oh love.” Serena reaches out and briefly clasps Bernie’s hand, then asks, “What about Nicki? Did you find her?”</p>
<p>“Subira and Nuru did. That’s why they came after me. They found her being cared for by an old woman and her granddaughter, about two miles from where her plane crashed.”</p>
<p>“I’m so glad she was found.”</p>
<p>“So am I.” She sighs. “I’m so tired.”</p>
<p>“You can rest for as long as you like at my place,” Serena promises.</p>
<p>“I think I’d like that. A lot.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Serena feels such a sense of relief at the thought of Bernie no longer flying. She wants this woman in her life for good now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally posted <a href="https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/630706978188066816/10-airporttravel-with-53-mutual-pining">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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